


The wonder that is keeping

by mad_marie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Babies!, Curse Breaking, EWE, Fairy Tale Retellings, Implied Mpreg, Implied Torture, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Poisoning, Post War, Self Harm, head auror harry, mute draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_marie/pseuds/mad_marie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In their last assignment, Harry and Ron rescues a bound and tortured Draco Malfoy. As they investigate further the crime behind that instigated it, Harry can't help but investigate what happened to Malfoy between the Wizengamot trials and now.</p><p>Set a decade after the war. Loosely based on the Six Swans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The wonder that is keeping

 

 

 

 

 

  
_But something whispered "It will soon be done:_  
 _Bands cannot always play, nor ladies smile:_  
 _Endure with patience the distasteful fun_  
 _For just a little while!"_

_-Lewis Carroll, Four Riddles_

 

 

 

 

 

They were in a clearing a few ways beyond Ashland Meadows, a small Wizarding town in Scotland near the muggle town of Portree. A year of investigation about a group of Dark Wizards claiming ownership of the lands, capturing muggles and selling them as slaves had brought Harry's team here. This was his last assignment in the field. In all formalities, the last mission was supposed to be the last, according to Kingsley. But Harry insisted he should be the one closing on this case. It was his, he invested the last two years running around Britain uncovering leads and raiding their hideouts. This was the last one, the head of the spider if one could call it that. He supposed, it was a good way of ending field work. Although Kingsley had assured him that being Head Auror does not necessarily mean that he'd be burning his arse of pushing papers. But it was a good compromise, he reckoned. Harry wanted the eight to five desk job, he wanted to come home to his kids and spend most of the time teaching them and playing with them. More so now that Ginny had given birth a few months ago to their third, Lily.

He had a sense of foreboding the moment they stepped beyond the rusty iron gates, the eerie shadows of the castle looming ahead. Gold, the one of the Aurors who were designated for the lookout, said that the Castle will be mostly empty this time of night. The Wizards kept a strict schedule, going about their hunting and haunting at eleven in the evening and comes back with the first rays of sunlight behind them. It would all be the muggle servants now, he added to Harry earlier. They were to set up their traps whilst the Wizards were away and await their arrival and ambush them. Slowly but surely, they took over one room after the next, stunning the muggles and keeping them safe while taking a hair or two so his team can polyjuice themselves to become the servants. And when the Wizards come back and have their daily meetings at one of the grand rooms, Harry and the others will strike in stride. 

Thirty four rooms, seven muggle servants under imperio, and twenty-eight captives later, they found themselves facing the last two rooms of the castle. Harry had split the team into three, one for the lookout, another for the preparation by the grand hall where their perpetrators would meet, and the last one with him, scouring the rooms for whatever were inside it.

Going for the closer door, Harry slowly opened it, the knob surprisingly giving way almost instantly with a click. Most of the rooms they went through earlier were locked with a spell, some stronger than the others. It was odd that this room was not, but Harry thought that perhaps this room was either empty or used for storage. 

What greeted them was darkness. Not even the shadows cast by the trees that surround the castle nor the pearly glow of the waning moon was present inside. Harry slowly stepped inside, with Ron and the others in tow. He heard a soft shuffle that came from farther the room and stopped dead on his track. Slowly lifting his wand, he muttered a lighting spell to surround the entire room.

The whiteness could have been blinding. The room was crisp and pristine, and the only thing unsettling for what seemed like an ordinarily bland room was a figure whose back was hunched, dead center. Harry gestured the others to slowly approach, but letting himself lead the way. The man, was covered in tattered clothes that did no use of covering up the expanse of exposed skin, but what little the clothes had covered up, the bruises and scars took care of the rest. Harry gritted his teeth, he almost rushed to its side when he saw the bruises. But he figured that it would do no help to alleviate the aggravation that he sensed from the captive. Saying that the sight was sickening was an understatement, it was the worst state they've seen tonight. Most of the victims were drugged, sedated yes, but even if they looked sickly and malnourished, there were no bruises or welts or scars that adorned their skin. This one didn't just adorned it, it was like the bruises replaced his skin itself.

“Hello,” he whispered calmly as he slowly knelt a few feet away. “We mean no harm, you’re safe now. We’re here to help you. Would you let us help you?” He would've said that the people who had done this were gone, but their operation was far from over. But by Merlin, Harry would make sure that those wizards would rot in Azkaban, if he didn't put them there himself. The man did not look up and not even a sound escaped his lips. "Please?" Harry coaxed. A moment later, the man, whose hands held his knees to his chest, gave a slight nod and that was a good enough answer for Harry who casted a wordless calming spell on the victim before approaching him and transfiguring a blanket to cover him up. 

“Harry,” Ron whispered from his side. Harry didn't even notice it until Ron pointed it out such visible state. It wasn't was if it was too slight to be seen for it was obviously glaring and heavy in contrast to the whiteness of the room. A heavy set of chain that was nailed to one of the walls of the room. It was thick, thicker than those they use to their notorious prisoners at Azkaban who had to had their wrists bound lest they do something unwilling with it. Harry's gaze followed it until it reached the other end, a cuff locked tightly to one of the captive’s ankles This one was gleaming, like it was polished everyday to retain its shine. Like a chain of a pet, he thought it disgust, at least it wasn't attached to the neck, thank fuck for small miracles.

He gestured to Ron to remove the cuff as he slowly lifted the man with no effort. Merlin, how long had they kept him here? He was all skin and bones, and he was as light as a feather. He felt a shake from the body he was carrying, and shifted the weight so he could avoid the fresh bruises that adorned the man’s body. Once free of the cuff, he carried the body towards the door, nodding slightly to Ron for him to take over the rest of the operations. He wasn't done here, but he needed to take this man to the hospital. With a promise to come back as soon as he can, he weaved back through the corridors of the castle. He apparated to St. Mungo’s once he was outside the gates of the castle.

 

* * *

 

The moment Harry arrived through the apparition point of St. Mungo's, mediwitches had flocked them and herded them to the emergency wing. Before Harry could even speak, they had the man in a conjured stretcher that had animated feet that hurriedly made its way to through the corridors. Harry tried to keep up, to stay beside it as it scurried with intent, but even the trained staff knew that such feat could not be made. 

One of the mediwitch pulled Harry aside by the elbow. "Mr. Potter, we cannot let you in the Emergency Wing, but I assure you the patient will be well taken care of." She then asked Harry to go to the waiting area as they asses the situation and asked him to "please take care of the paperworks" while he waits. Sighing, Harry did was he was told. The staff at St. Mungo's are not to be trifled with, they worse than Madam Pomfrey with their authoritative huffs and insinuating glares when one did not do as they say. Harry would know, he'd been through these corridors himself and most of the time it was him who's been carried off to the Emergency.

"Mr. Potter," a voice came from behind him while he hunched down a counter trying to write whatever limited knowledge he could about the man he brought in on the patient information sheet. 

"Yes?" Harry turned around, it was the same mediwitch who pulled him aside earlier. He reckoned, it wasn't that much long when he came here, were they that quick to do the damage control? "Is he okay now? I don't actually know much about him," Harry added sheepishly, looking down to the sheet he held, "And I really need to get back to work."

The mediwitch glanced warily to the double doors that had the glaring sign 'Emergency' above it before looking back to Harry with a helpless expression. It made Harry's chest sink a little, knowing that what came next would be bad news. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but we cannot admit this person." 

Harry's brows furrowed in confusion, "Why? Can you not heal him? That can't be right-"

A hand suddenly raised up to stop Harry's inquiries. The mediwitch shook her head, "Mr. Potter, the man you have  brought to our attention is a Death Eater, the principals have given us strict orders not to admit him. I'm sorry, we can't help him here."

"What?" Harry bellowed, his voice raising a few decibels in outrage. "Are you seriously telling me that you're refusing care to that man because he has a mark on his arm?  _Was_ a death eater?" His hands clenched and belatedly he remembered the paper he was holding was now in crumpled between his tightened grip. This was atrocious of them, how could they hold a crime against a person needing immediate care? The war had been over, it was almost ten years now but they're still hung up on it. 

The mediwitch held Harry's arm as if to sooth his temper, "I'm sorry, I really am, but please remember, St. Mungo's is now a privatized health facility, we have the right to wave admittance to people. I know it is highly unfair, but it is our policy."

Harry gritted his teeth, "Your right? What about his right to get the care he needs? This, it's inhumane." he took a deep breath, he did need to calm down, he could feel anger rising and it would not bid well to have his magic backlash here.

"I'm sorry," she said again, her expression telling that she realized that she's been apologizing endlessly. But it wasn't like she had any other way of saying that "No, we will not take in an ex-death eater" as polite as she can to Harry. But albeit it, in a low whisper she added, "I've contacted a friend of mine, a healer, not one employed by St. Mungo's. She'll help you, but you have to move the patient elsewhere, please, it's all I could to help you." 

Harry sighed in resignation, in any other circumstance, he'd battle with stubbornness and pointedly ask for one of the board members of St. Mungo's, but he doesn't have time for that. Not that he'll resign himself with such unjust treatment to others. But it was a battle he have to wait out, ten years at the ministry has taught him that. He had to pick his battles, and know when it is right to fight for it.

"I understand, my apologies, I know this is out of your hands." Harry gave a small smile, he tries to iron out the crumpled sheet on his hands but stopped when he realized it won't be needed anymore. "I'll probably need to get him now, yeah? The healer, are they to meet me here, or?"

The mediwitch gestured him to follow her. "Healer Abbott said that she will contact you, she said she knows where you live?"

Harry gave a nod, "Yeah, Hannah is it? Yes, we're friends. I forgot that she's a healer now." They continued through the hallway turning to the room at the end.

"I've healed most of his bruises, cleaned him up as much as I can, but Mr. Malfoy does need immediate care." She ushered Harry and opened the curtained corner. 

"Mr. Malfoy?" Harry asked in confusion. Had he heard right? But he'd have notice if it was Draco Malfoy he's been carrying out the castle. He doubt the man would let Harry carry him. Not like he had much contact with the Slytherin since after the war. He stepped beside the drawn curtain and his doubts about the man vanished. Now that the mediwitch had cleaned him up a bit, Harry had no doubt that the man sleeping on the bed was indeed Draco Malfoy. "Oh," he murmured, more surprised at himself that he just accepted the fact that it was Malfoy who was in front of him. For the first time that night, Harry was able to examine Malfoy. He was sickly thin, eye bags bluish dark in contrast with his sallow skin. His bedraggled hair lay past his shoulders. Harry's stomach sank, he'd never seen someone so frail.

The mediwitch lifted her wand and murmured a stasis spell spell on Malfoy. "He's in a coma since you've brought him here, that's why I've contacted Healer Abbott as soon as I can. She'll need to look him over herself for the prognosis."

"Thank you," Harry said as he carefully lifted Malfoy in his arms. "I didn't quite catch your name earlier," 

"It's Hooper, Amanda Hooper." She gave him a small smile as she held the curtains away so that Harry could maneuver Malfoy and himself towards the door. "I hope for Mr. Malfoy's heath," she added in farewell. Harry gave her a slight nod as he made his way back to St. Mungo's apparition point.

He made a mental note of sending his patronus to Ron and his team that he'll be unable to go back for the night. So much for his last assignment. 

 

* * *

 

It was a good thing that Ginny and the kids were staying at the Burrow for the weekend. Harry couldn't imagine what Ginny would say when he greets her for the night with Draco Malfoy draped on his arms. Harry's nose crinkled at the thought. Ginny had been a little temperamental lately, which was given since she's the one who's been keeping up late with Lily, with Harry transitioning to Head Auror the past couple months. He would've taken leave if not for this harrowing case, one which Harry had no choice but to drop what with Malfoy's situation. It wasn't like he's putting blame on Malfoy, Merlin, he'd be an arsehole to blame someone who's in such state.

He carefully treaded up the stairs towards an unused guest room down the hall where he did a quick clean up after he put Malfoy's form down the bed. He was unsure what to do next while he waits for Hannah's arrival. He reckoned his floo was opened to visitors but did a quick check just to make sure. He made sure to send his Patronus to Ron and idly sat on a chair by the vanity.

He made do staring at Malfoy as he waited, pondering on how the blond got himself in the middle of such mess and got him bound and tortured like he did. Harry tried to remember what he could of Malfoy for the past decade but the last he saw of Malfoy was at his family's hearing a few months after the war.  The Wizengamot tried them separately, Lucius was the first one, Harry remembered how stricken Lucius and Narcissa were when he was sentenced to Azkaban, as if they had been hoping for a more lenient punishment. Harry remembered so clearly Malfoy's indifference of it all, a far opposite on how flummoxed he was when his own verdict was read. Harry can still remember Malfoy's gaping mouth when the gavel had struck. He might have remembered giving a bit of a snort watching Malfoy's astonished face being led by his mother out of the court room.

After that, try as he might, he had no recollection of meeting Malfoy ever again. Evidently, non of his mates had brought him up after either. None from the Daily prophet who had the knack of publishing articles following the dailies of ex-death eaters and the Order of the Phoenix alike. It was as if Malfoy had vanished in thin air. 

He'd have to go through the Ministry's records later to see what Malfoy has been up to, he decided as he heard the floo go off in the living room downstairs. "We're up here," He called out to Hannah. More importantly, he needs Malfoy well and conscious for the case as well. 

"Evening, Harry," Hannah greeted as she entered the room. Her gaze falling instantly at Malfoy's prone state. She gave a sigh before pulling out her wand. Harry took residence by door frame, leaning on it as he let Hannah do her work. She had always been serious of her work, Harry reckoned she did hard work to be a private healer as it was known for a fact that she had never been quite adept at Herbology - one of the subjects needed to be able to qualify as a healer. Harry admires her, really, she was dedicated to a fault, and it compensates what she lacks in flair. 

"Might take a while, this." Hannah called out between spells.

"I'll make tea then," Harry offered and left her to tend to Malfoy. Harry reacquainted with Hannah a few years back when Neville brought her at their yearly New Year's get together. They had just started dating then, catching up a couple of months ago when Neville got a quick lunch over at the Leaky. Hannah had been helping Tom manage the Inn then. They're to be wed this spring, Harry and Ron both helped Neville pick out Hannah's ring. Harry smiled fondly, thinking of how long they came from being the wide eyed astonished first  years in the Great Hall. In a few year's time, it'll be their kids in their place, making their own troubles in Hogwart's corridors. Belatedly Harry thought that it was a good thing that Neville will be there to look after the kids for them. Harry chuckled, Professor Longbottom, it does have a nice ring to it.

His good humour left him when Malfoy crossed his mind. Finding it hard to believe that the snarky spoiled bastard he met at the stairs of Hogwarts was the same man who's lying in a coma in his guest room upstairs. What happened between then and now? How did he become like that? Harry has been repeating those questions in his mind and he can't quite grasp even an inkling of an answer.

The whistling of the kettle snapped him out of his reverie, preferring to prepare tea with his hands instead of swishing his wand about. He took some biscuits Molly had made, she always sends some their way every week and sat on one of the chairs of the kitchen table. He opted to wait in the kitchen for Hannah to finish instead of sending tea upstairs, lest he distract her of her work. The clock by the counter chimed, and Harry glanced to look at the time. It was three in the morning already? He suddenly felt tired, as if his body had just realized how late it was. Realizing that Hannah might have been sleeping before mediwitch Hooper owled her. He'd have to apologize to both her and Neville later. Harry leaned on the table, resting his head on his crossed arms and waited.

Harry rolled over, blindly grabbing a pillow to block the insistent tapping by, what his sleepy mind assumed, was the window. His addled thoughts came clear and he bolted up from the bed. What time was it? The sun was glaring through the window. He groaned as he remembered the night before. Malfoy in his guest room, Hannah healing him… Oh, bullocks, he forgot about Hannah. He groggily stood up from the bed and checked the guest bedroom. Malfoy was still there, still in a in a coma. Harry scratched his hair before going down to the kitchen. He vaguely remembered waiting there with tea, he assumed Hannah was the one who levitated him to the bedroom. The tea and biscuits were gone and the kettle cleaned and tucked away by the stove. A note was placed on the kitchen table.

 

Harry,

Thank you for the tea and biscuits.

I finished quite late and opted to let you rest. Fire call me when you are able. 

Hannah

 

He looked up to see the time, quarter past eleven. He might as well have lunch before he starts the day.

 

* * *

 

Harry was cleaning after lunch when he heard a familiar sound of apparating in the living room. All family and close friends of his and Ginny's were of course, have the floo network and the apparition point enabled for them. Ron came into the kitchen a few moments later, looking peaked with his blood-shot eyes, he was still wearing his auror robes. 

"Those bleeding plonkers kept us up all night." Ron whinged as he sat. He was already conjuring food with his wand when Harry sat opposite him. "You wouldn't believe the shite they were sprouting off." He said gobbling what looked like the left over turkey sandwich Harry took home a couple days ago.

"Do you have any idea what they were doing with the man?" The man. Draco Malfoy. Who was upstairs in the guest room. Well it was obvious what they were doing to Malfoy, he was in bad shape, the bruises didn't leave anything for one's imagination on what they did to him. Why was the question Harry wanted answers most.

Ron shrugged, "Dunno, haven't got to that yet. Jones and the others are still with the five Wizards, trying everything to make them crack. The rest had just finished taking statements from the servants and the other victims, mostly taking their their memories since, you know, they were under imperious and such. Shaklebolt had wanted me to take the statement for the last one, you know, the man you took to St. Mungo's."

Now how would one try to explain that their victim is in a coma? That and the victim was no other than Draco bleeding Malfoy, to Ron nonetheless. Ron'll thought him barking mad. But Harry reckoned, it'll be more believable if he showed Ron himself.

"About that, St. Mungo's had rejected care for him. I've got him up in the guest room," Harry got up before adding, "Temporarily, of course." He made his way to the said guest room, hearing the chair scrape on the floor when Ron stood up to follow him. "He's in a coma, so he won't be up for questioning. Taking his memory's out of the question too." He stood by the closed door hand gripping the knob, "He's an ex-death eater," He told Ron before opening the door.

Ron slid in the room, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw the who was lying on the bed. "Harry," he warily said as he looked at Harry for confirmation. "It's really him? It's Malfoy?" Harry could only nod in affirmation. "Blimey," he gaped in astonishment.

Harry shifted his weight so he could lean on the vanity, "Believe me, I couldn't fathom it either. I don't even know how he ended up chained on a bloody wall of a castle we were raiding." Harry crossed his arms to his chest. 

The red head gave a low whistle, "Wow, y'know I'd never actually wish him to be caught up in such state, even if he's a right prat and all. Those wizards are insane, complete nutters what they are."

"St. Mungo's not any better, once they saw the dark mark on him, they shut us out like he had the plague." It irked Harry to remember Mediwizard Hooper telling him about their principals not wanting to admit Malfoy. "Hannah helped me though, she came and took a look at him. I'm supposed to call her anytime today for the diagnosis." 

"I'd better get back, see if I can get anything out of them about this," He gestured towards Malfoy.

"Leave after we talk to Hannah, that way you can report about his condition when you get back." Harry proposed. Ron nodded, giving Malfoy one last pitying look before he and Harry went down to the living room to firecall Hannah.

Hannah found it better for them to talk in the same room so she flooed in after Harry had fire called. She handed a scroll to Harry as soon as she came out the fireplace. "Here's the written diagnosis, I thought you'd be needing it for record." Harry sat on his arm chair whilst the two sat on the sofa, opposite him.

Hannah sighed, "Malfoy's been through extensive beating. He's had two ribs broken that didn't heal properly, one was close to his lungs that it left a bit of scarring on the tissue. A few of his teeth were plucked out by force." Her hands were resting on her lap and Harry saw them clench as she drew in a steady breath. "His tongue had been cut off, I tried healing it first but there was a very strong spell hindering it's regrowth. I remember the spell, it's called the Ballow curse. It was commonly used in the seventeenth century as followup on torture. For inflicting more pain and stopping regrowth of the limbs they chop off. Luckily the one who cast the curse hadn't the ability so I was able to remove it too."  

She looked perturbed as she continued on, "His sphincter muscles have scarring, some fresh than others. He's been constantly raped, and was subjected to it before you called me to see him last night."

Both Harry and Ron exchanged looks, unsure of how to handle the information the healer had just given them.

"I've healed everything," Hannah continued in assurance, "His body will have no trace of the trauma, but I cannot say the same about his mental state. His coma was induced by the stress brought upon his body and the lack of nutrition he's getting. It's more of his magic's self preservation than anything else. He'll wake up in a week or so, when his magic feels that his body can sustain itself on it's own." 

"Were there any traces of the perpetrator's you know, essence on him?" Ron asked, a bit flustered with his own question.

Hannah nodded, "Actually yes, as I've said, he was raped again before Harry brought him here. I've put the record of the person's magical signature there too, if you have a suspect, you can cross examine it with him. As for Malfoy, I can check up on him every couple of days to renew the spells for the nutrients he need." 

"Thank you, Hannah, for everything. I've imposed a lot on you." Harry said sheepishly remembering how he left her to tend to Malfoy while he fell asleep on the kitchen table.  

"Pish," she exclaimed in good humor, her hands gesticulating in dismissal "It's nothing, don't worry about it. I'll see you in two days, yeah? It's good to see you both, Ron, albeit the circumstance." They all stood up, and she hugged them both in farewell before making her way to the fireplace. 

Ron gave her wave, "Tell Neville we'll see him, yeah?" 

"I will," she replied before throwing the powder in the blazing fire and calling out Leaky Cauldron.

Harry heard Ron sighed, "Blimey," was all he said. Harry too was bereft of speech Hannah had given them the details of Malfoy's imprisonment.

"I'd better get back," Ron said after a few minutes of silence.

Harry nodded, giving him the scroll from Hannah, "I'll come by tomorrow if I can, I have to read up on the records of the interrogation."

When Ron left, Harry slumped on the arm chair in exhaustion. All those things Hannah told them left his thoughts in disarray. He knew he had to go interrogate the perpetrators himself, he had to know from their own mouth why they did that to Malfoy and no one else. But before anything else, how can he explain to Ginny that the man who tried to kill them is staying in their guest room? 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm totally being presumptuous writing this story.


End file.
